The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,52

and said, “Ah, another attempt at humor. It, too, failed, I see.”

“A young Mexican boy, riding a mule, came to the house the same time I did,” Boston explained as she extended her hand. “He asked me to deliver this note to you.”

He absently took the note while Butler informed Boston that her ready cash and documents were secure in the safe. Quin unfolded the paper, then cursed in disbelief when he read the hastily scrawled, unsigned message.

“Now what’s happened?” Boston asked worriedly.

Quin sat down at his desk before he fell down in stunned amazement. He felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest, for he could barely catch his breath and his mind was spinning like a pinwheel. Dazed, he handed the message to Boston.

“It can’t be!” she howled.

“What in the blazes…?” Butler hooted as he looked over her shoulder to read the missive.

The room spun and Quin struggled to wrap his thoughts around the shocking claim mentioned in the note.

Your parents’ wagon wreck was no accident. Come alone to Phantom Springs at eight o’clock tonight. Bring two thousand dollars and you will have the information you need.

“No accident?” Quin wheezed unsteadily. “What does that mean? Murder? Manslaughter? How? Why?”

Boston and Butler shrugged helplessly while Quin reread the note—three times.

“Why send this note two years later?” Boston questioned warily.

“This might be a cunning scheme to prey on your emotions and extort money,” the accountant speculated.

Boston eased a hip onto the edge of the desk, then leaned toward him, forcing him to raise his downcast head and acknowledge her. “I don’t think you should go, Cahill,” she advised. “This note has disaster written all over it.”

“I agree with her,” Butler chimed in. “Given the rustling, butchering and fires in this area, this note is too suspicious. Just another way to separate you from your money.”

Anger and frustration roiled inside Quin. “What if it was a robbery turned disaster, not a hapless accident? My parents might still be alive and nothing would have changed on the 4C,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “There wouldn’t be a rift between my brothers and sister and me. Although Bowie had already left home to tame the rough towns in Deer County, Chance and Leanna might have delayed their departure, instead of flying off on the wings of an argument.”

Boston laid her hand on his rigid shoulder. “Quin, are you all right?”

“Hell, no!” he burst out. He stared into space, reliving the anguish of losing both parents suddenly and the torment of the angry argument with his surviving family. Not to mention the grief and guilt that constantly plagued him because he had waylaid on the cattle drive to indulge in selfish pleasure.

A robbery attempt on his parents might not have been so easy if he had been on hand that fateful evening. Or the outcome might have turned out differently if Bowie or Chance had accompanied their parents to Wolf Grove that day. Another set of eyes and ears and an expert shooter might have made a difference between life and death.

“If it was a robbery attempt gone wrong, then I want to know the details,” he muttered harshly. “I want to know who was responsible for killing my parents.”

Boston clasped her hands around Quin’s and got right in his face. “You go traipsing off to Phantom Springs, carrying that much money to meet who knows how many thieves that might set upon you, you’ll end up dead.”

“She’s right, you know,” Butler chimed in, his expression grim. “This might be a clever trap designed specifically to plot your murder. You have no way of knowing if there is one or five scoundrels waiting to attack.”

Quin pulled his hands from Boston’s grasp, then scraped his fingers through his tousled hair. He tried to think logically. Boston and Butler were right, of course. There were all sorts of potential pitfalls awaiting him. But if his parents had been a target of robbery, because they were driving a wagon heaped with supplies, then Quin had to know. He wanted justice and he wanted revenge for the way his family had been torn apart and for depriving his parents of years of life!

When Quin bolted to his feet, Boston blew out an agitated breath. “Do not do this, Cahill.”

He stared at her somberly for a long moment. “If the situation were reversed and you learned one or both of your parents had been victims of a fatal crime, would you want to know?”

“Of